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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495088">equilibrium</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/korraisms/pseuds/korraisms'>korraisms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Office (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, One Shot, for the memes only ok i don't write fanfiction unironically, just jokes ok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:42:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/korraisms/pseuds/korraisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jim Halpert/Dwight Schrute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>equilibrium</h2></a>
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    <p>Jim’s mind was racing as his shoes hit the pavement rhythmically, taking his feet and his body further and further away from the looming block of concrete that housed Dunder Mifflin Scranton. </p><p>The air around him was thick and hot with the ever-nostalgic smell of summertime and the memories of the past ten years that it held deep within it’s sweaty grasp. </p><p>The office parties, soccer games, lunches…</p><p> Had it not been for the slight twinge of sadness he felt in his chest at the thought of this, Jim might not have looked up behind him one final time, to allow the afternoon sun to sear his eyes as he stared at his decade-long home. </p><p>He indulged in this vision for longer than he should have, probably, and by the time he had the strength to blink, the world around him was dripping with flashing neon orange paint, bubbling and shifting every time he switched his gaze. Through the burning sheet of color that was impairing his vision, he could barely make out a figure beyond one of the open windows. </p><p>Who opens windows in the summertime, anyway?</p><p>As he eyed the man, his vision cleared. There was Dwight Schrute, staring back down at him. </p><p>Merely five seconds of eye contact, but to Jim it seemed like a fragment of time in which the world around him was standing still. He could feel nothing, hear nothing, and understand nothing except the eyes that were boring so deep into his own. Years of words left unsaid, something left unexplored, everything left undeniable.</p><p>The emptiness on either side of the chasm that was the window between the inside of the office and the outside parking lot had by this point reached a sweaty and silent, painfully stagnant, equilibrium. The window remained a gateway, but no air flowed from one side into the other. It just stayed as it was, unmoving as it had been, unchanged as it would be.</p>
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